


The Second Coming (lol)...(you'll get it)

by misha_collins_butt



Series: I Knew I Loved You [16]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Double climax, Dubious Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Human Castiel, M/M, Morning Sex, Oops, That's My Kink, and Sam's ears may be plugged, but Dean is...loud, dub-con, dubcon, human!Cas, mild pwp, porn without plot/plot what plot, profound!Dean, profound!cas, sort of porn without plot, the hotel walls are thin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20235973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: There's a first time for everything - Cas experiencing being human, experiencing trying to sleep, sneaking into Dean's hotel room, kissing Dean...doing...other stuff with Dean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) oh Cas, you Sinamon Roll, you.First kiss/first time/morning sexOld fic.





	The Second Coming (lol)...(you'll get it)

Dean's sleep-deprived mind paranois him to the point that he's snapping his eyes open at three in the morning because his 7th sense is telling him something is there. 

And how about that? He turns to see a figure standing across the hotel room in the kitchenette, trench coat clad and sex hair wearing. Cas.

"Hey," he croaks, throat sore from screaming to the heavens that he couldn't stand it anymore. That he just wanted things to be the way they used to, he and his brother and Cas, all in their rightful minds, speeding down a back road in baby at 7 at night trying to find a last minute motel to stay at. "How'd you get in?"

Silence slithers after that question, a snake stalking its prey, and once it swallows the phrase whole, an eery quiet pursues, and Dean shifts in his itchy bedsheets, naked but for his briefs.

"You left the door unlocked," Castiel's voice drifts hoarsely through the stale Oklahoma fall air, which even the ceiling fan can't keep out of Dean's lungs, making it so he often wakes with a dry mouth or scratchy windpipes. 

In all reality, though he was hoping leaving everything open would lure Cas from his little setup out in the Impala. He's human now. He doesn't understand, somehow, that he can't survive long periods of time outdoors. Sometimes he'll get fatigued and Dean will ask if Cas has been eating and drinking water and, sheepishly Cas will reply that, no, he's forgotten again. Cas once went three days without a single piece of food touching his lips. It worries Dean, that Cas isn't self sufficient. He can't baby the guy. 

"Oops," Dean sighs unapologetically, ruffling a hand through his hair. "You okay?"

"Of course," Cas replies, too quickly, his voice jumping down an octave, if that's even possible. He clears his throat, silhouette shifting, casting a moonlit shadow across the kitchenette tiles. "Of course," he repeats, more lightly. "I just...I got cold. I can't sleep. I'm not used to being...vulnerable."

Dean nods, but realises a second later Cas probably can't even see the movement - not anymore.

"You...you wanna come sit with me?" Dean's heart races and his voice cracks.

And in the midst of a chaotic battle in his mind between desperately yearning for Cas's body, for his warmth in this cold, desolate bed next to him, and frantically trying to push down the idea that he might be in love with his angel, even after all these years of consideration, and, at a few points in time, hesitant acceptance of the fact, the room remains still and static, a type of un-uttered realisation clinging to the edge of stories left unwritten.

"Yes," Cas breathes, voice tripping over a nervous, somber energy. He makes his quick ascent over the hill of the fluffy carpet and crawls between the sheets, still dressed in that ratty old coat and suit. "Thank you," he whispers into the space seperating them, hands curled into fists in front of his throat. 

He still shivers, and, from all the way across the bed, looks all of a few years old, a small child still learning his way in the world.

"Come here," Dean frowns, tired mind only half understanding what he's doing, only half controlling his own actions, as he opens the blankets further and wraps a solid arm around Cas's shoulders, pulling him into his space. "Don't want you to freeze, baby."

He's so sleepy. He doesn't realise what he's said until too long after he's said it - he really didn't mean to call Cas 'baby'. He really didn't. Really. Just...Cas is cold and it's 3:15 in the morning and...and Dean's been having, more and more often of late, dreams about snuggling up to Cas beneath a pile of blankets on a cold day. No one can really blame him for the slip.

And Cas doesn't say anything, anyway. So he must not mind all that much.

Cas's face nuzzles eagerly into Dean's throat and Dean hears him inhale deeply, feels him relax into Dean's arms.

Just about to fall asleep, when suddenly.

Cas's lips fall apart, brushing Dean's neck and Dean stiffens, eyes popping open again.

"Hey, Cas," he mumbles, bristling his fingers gently through Cas's hair. "Can ya not do that with your mouth?"

Slowly, purposefully, Castiel replies, voice innocently sultry, "I don't know what you mean." And with each formation of a new word, his lips brush, deliberately and painfully across Dean's skin, eliciting a shivering breath in.

Cas pushes his lips into Dean's throat, a soft, testing kiss. Wading in to see how warm the water is. And Dean lets him, even tilts his head to give him more space. Because damnit he wants it. He wants Cas. Has for a long time and it's killing him. And now Cas is in a bed with him, lips dragging across his neck, hand curling over his bare chest, and Dean tremouring with the effort to not roll over on top of the man and kiss him senseless.

"Dean?"

"Cas."

"Would you...would you kiss me?"

Dean works his jaw, searching for words and finding none. Searching for an answer in the God he assumes even his ex-angel has lost faith in. 

So he pulls back and lowers his head, examines his companion's eyes, the ones he missed for every moment he was breathing every time he lost Cas. And he thinks even in death he would never find peace from the constant longing and fear of losing him again.

And his lips find Cas's in the dark of a heaven-absent night, in the privacy of a lonely motel room where the walls are closing in and the star spattered sky is purple as his dreams and Cas is no longer an all knowing, effervescent warrior, and that still doesn't change a thing about how Dean feels about him.

A love like no other spills out from between his teeth into Cas's human soul and feeds the notion that nothing is impossible, and their lips scraping together in a silence as peaceful as sleep moves Dean's hands to Cas's waist, where he tugs the man on top of himself and entangles their legs and his fingers between the knots in Castiel's hair. 

Nothing makes sense to him anymore, as it hasn't for a time - as long as he can remember - but especially now, with the leaves outside changing colours like his heart, and his mind in a race to a finish line he believes he'll never reach, and his fingers calloused from a past that seems too awful to exist, he's having his doubts. Dean thinks maybe he misread everything. Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe there are a few things to live for, to love. And maybe he can have what he wants for once in his life.

Maybe Cas's warm palms ghosting across his ribs and venturing up to his collarbones, his unshaven cheeks is proof enough that he isn't doomed to die alone and scared, a child forced to grow up too quickly, a thief of hearts and lives, a self-sacrificing idiot. Maybe, just maybe, he's not as lost as he thought.

Cas remembers he needs to breathe now and breaks from mapping Dean's mouth, chest in arrest as he heaves the dry air, and Dean can feel him sucking in his loneliness, refilling him with an unmatched wisdom and affirmation of the unknown.

"I...I would have asked sooner. Had I known," Cas murmurs, leaning his forehead against Dean's, lips barely moving, hands reminding Dean he's not asleep, grounding him to a reality that 15 minutes ago he never thought would exist.

"Known?"

"That you felt the same."

"Bullshit," Dean breathes, brows knitting low over howling, moon blown eyes. "You always knew. From the second I first thought it. You're an angel..._were_ an angel. You read thoughts--"

"Not yours."

Dean's lips peel apart, oxygen escaping his scarred lungs.

"Never yours, Dean." Cas shakes his head, thumb stroking Dean's chin mindlessly. Cas presses a short, assuring kiss into Dean's lower lip. "You were always too...confusing. I tried. I did, don't think it's about saving your pride." Cas smirks. "I just could never differentiate anger from passion, surprise from understanding...love from need. I went all these years believing..." another kiss "...that you just needed me. Needed the abilities I had. So when you didn't get rid of me when I became...human...I was...bewildered to say the least. Angry, too. I didn't understand. I thought maybe you just had some silly, folly hope that I would miraculously find my grace and you were just keeping me around to make sure I didn't run off to some other brothers somewhere."

Dean shakes his head fervently, slipping his hands between Cas's jacket and his work shirt.

"No, no, no," Dean mutters, kisses his angel again. "Cas, no. No I would never--I couldn't even imagine...I can't live without you. Cas. Not because of some...fucking petty fear that we wouldn't be able to fight without you. Because...because I need you--I...I love you..."

His voice cracks as he admits it.

Cas's eyes trail slowly upward and land on Dean's, a peculiar shock shaking Cas to the core that it's impossible not to see when Dean looks into those eyes.

"I love you, Cas. I don't know why I never said anything."

"Maybe it's that pride complex you hold so near and dear to that fluttering heart of yours," Cas smiles, a rarely paid god-given gift. "Or maybe that pure, vexingly stubborn soul." He shakes his head. A kiss. "Or maybe you didn't even know. Maybe you couldn't distinguish any better than I could between love and need."

"All I care about now is never losing you again. Don't matter what body you're in, which Cas you are. I can't go through that again, and fuck all if that's selfish of me," Dean smooths a hand back over Cas's hair. Cas's eyes flicker between Dean's, waiting, maybe, or just watching. "You're so patient, Cas. And brave. And strong. And just...fucking incredible." Dean smiles faintly, stomach doing happy spins. Murmurs, "Beautiful."

Castiel's eyebrows dip low for a moment, and the corners of his lips turn to his original home, heaven.

"I love you, too, Dean. I have for a very...very long time." Cas blinks slowly, another soft smile creeping into his teeth, where Dean's story is engraved from words spoken too wistfully and a life lived wrecklessly, but a life that now rests its weary head in the hands of a celestial repent. "You'll never be alone again. Never be lost or afraid. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

And maybe Dean really does have a chance.

Maybe life...is worth loving.

\--

Cas wakes at the asscrack of dawn to Dean's lips in the crook of his neck, kissing and biting his way down his shoulder. Somehow he'd had the physical ability to undress himself last night after Dean fell asleep, but he only remembers stripping to his briefs. And now he's naked.

"Dean?" He crows, throat swollen. "Hey, what are you--" he's cut off in a moan when Dean's warm mouth finds one of his hardened nipples and sucks lightly, releasing a subtle groan. 

Cas catches movement from beneath the covers and he realises Dean is touching himself, hand shoved deep in his boxers, and Cas gasps delightedly, though he doesn't mean to.

"Dean," he whines, tugging at Dean's hair.

"Mm," he hums, responding to the action with a shiver. "Don't stop pulling my hair," he breathes wispily dragging his lips down Castiel's stomach. A jolt of beautiful, just-this-side-of-painful electricity shoots from his stomach into his dick and he pants, bucking his hips up off the bed into Dean's mouth.

"Fuck," Cas wheezes, fingers fisting tightly in Dean's hair, pressing him into Cas's flushing skin. "Dean, I don't think--"

"Shhhh," he spreads a hand slowly across Cas's sternum, curls his fingers, and drags his blunt nails down Cas's stomach, leaving red lines blurting shivers in his wake.

Then Dean his lifting Cas's leg, shifting between his thighs, and pressing ginger, teasing kisses right into the edge between his groin and his leg, bending Cas's back like an aerobatic high above the bed.

And holy shit, Dean's tongue is soft and wet in his hole, working him open like a damn piñata, like there's something sweet in him somewhere. A finger joins Dean's tongue, stretching him to a thin strained line between pain and pleasure, and his jaw falls open in a near scream, his hands balling up in Dean's hair and the bedsheets. He remembers to pull Dean's hair, pulls it past taut this time, so Dean's scalp is stretching away from his skull, and Dean pauses momentarily to gasp, hand on Cas's lower abdomen digging harshly into Cas's skin.

"Fuck, Cas, baby," he grunts, fitting another finger slowly into Cas's ass, and Dean hooks his fingers and a mind-numbing sensation bolts from Cas's stomach, up his spine, to the base of his skull, which is on red alert, flashing lights and bright flags flying up, taking over his systems and warning him to stop what's happening, but his body won't respond, his hand still kneading Dean's hair, his waist still arched into the air. "Fuck."

Cas rocks onto his fingers, guiding himself with an arm at head level, straining muscles he rarely uses to this extent. He looks down, watches his Dean licking ecstatically into his ass and his hand sneak up the side of his leg and grab his hip suddenly, pushing a rough thumb into the dip inside Cas's hipbone and pulling him further into his face.

"DeanDeanDeanDeanDean," he gasps out between trembling breaths, trying so hard, and failing miserably, to contain the unholy noises escaping his mouth. "Dean, shit, stop! Stop, please, fuck."

Dean comes away, breath heavy, pupils blown, lips glistening with spit.

"Too much?" He heaves, wiping his mouth on his bare arm.

Cas shakes his head vehemently, tugging harshly on Dean's hair, earning him a moan and raised eyebrows, mouth hanging open.

"No, I just don't want to cum on just your fingers. I want you," he breathes, dragging Dean up to kiss him firmly, possessively, without much caution for how strong he still is from the fading grace circulating - maybe for only a few more days - through his pulsing veins. "I want you inside me," he mumbles against Dean's lips, barely taking a moment to breathe before he's trapped in Dean's tongue again, running across his teeth and floating against Cas's own.

"You sure?" Dean mutters, lips not leaving Cas's skin as he rolls his hips into Cas's bare crotch.

Cas moans, and nods when he recovers. Dean leans over the bottom edge of the bed and rifles with shaky hands through his duffle bag. He comes back up with a bottle of gooey, clear liquid, and he flips open the cap and spreads it over his dick, a ferocity in his eyes as he crawls back up between Cas's legs and lifts him onto his lap with ease.

Cas sinks down slickly onto Dean's cock, forehead rolling against his.

"Fuck, Dean," he whispers, hands running up through Dean's hair. "Fuck, you're so beautiful. You're so beautiful. I love you so much." He speaks in exhales as he rolls up and down on Dean's member.

Dean's voice hitches and he breathes a moan when Cas tightens around him and starts moving faster.

"Cas," he calls, falling into the man and knocking them over into the mattress. "Cas. Shit, Cas I can't--I need you. I need you."

"Cum for me. Cum in me, Dean."

"Fuck!" He fucks faster into Cas, and his angle forces the blunt head of his cock into Cas's prostate repeatedly, and Cas's hips lift increasingly into the air until he's hollering at the top of his lungs, the bed slamming into the wall again and again as he cums in thick lines across his own chest.

Dean has the audacity to lean down and drag his tongue shamelessly through the mess until all of it is gathered in his mouth, then swallow, eyes piercing holes into Cas's.

And just like that, with Dean's cock slamming into his prostate and his stupid, gorgeous mouth covered in his load, Cas is cumming again, screaming almost painfully, throat raw.

Dean climaxes simultaneously, nails scratching crevices down Cas's back, teeth digging crescents into his chest. The bed makes one last ringing slam into the wall before creaking back into position and becoming very silent.

"Holy shit, Cas," Dean gazes incredulously at Cas's exhausted face, lax with bliss and drunk with love. He laughs, "Holy _shit_, Cas. You just came _twice_."

"It's a talent of mine," he exhales, brushing fingers back through his hair. "First time I figured it out, I was with Jesus."

"You fucked Jesus?!" Dean asks incredulously.

Castiel bends upward and pulls Dean down so he can meet him halfway with a passionate kiss, tongue and all.

"And _you_ fucked _me_. Better than _he_ did, mind you," Cas gazes into Dean's eyes, gold and green and endless. "You're the only one for me Dean. You always have been. I just had to wait a billion years to figure it out."

Dean watches him back, brows knitting low over sad eyes.

"Cas--"

A pounding from the wall behind the bed breaks them from their own world.

"Look, I'm really happy you two finally fucked but could ya not do it in a hotel with thin walls?" Sam's voice snarks, muffled, from the other side of the wall, where he'd quarantined himself due to a bad cold, and Dean chuckles.

"Sorry, Sammy!" He calls back, laughing.

"Do _not _call me that if you're still naked!"

Cas breaks down in laughter, burying his face in Dean's chest. 

He feels Dean's chin rub through his hair and the man's fingers lift his face. Dean's eyes flip between Cas's, a solemn, ardent look in his watery whites.

"You're so incredible," Dean whispers, faint shake of his head. "How did I get so lucky."

"It wasn't luck, Dean," Cas replies with a tiny smile. He kisses Dean again, lips gentle and lapping. Pulls back and breathes, "It was fate."

_It was fate._


End file.
